


Oh, To Be Young And In Love

by little_geek_corner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - High School, Dean Winchester Makes Mixtapes For Castiel, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, LOOK AWAY :D, Lucifer is Called Luke (Supernatural), M/M, Samandriel is Called Alfie, Slow Burn, THANK!!!!, The Author Regrets Everything, W.I.P. IGNORE!!!!!!, everyone is a piece of shit except Charlie, no but im serious its pretty fucking slow im so sorry, no smut cuz it scares me, they are wholesome boys 😌
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26374321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_geek_corner/pseuds/little_geek_corner
Summary: a/n 19/01/2021work in progress, pls ignore thanks byeCastiel Novak is the new kid in town. He's nerdy, socially awkward, dresses weirdly and has a chaotic family life that he's finding difficult to deal with. He couldn't stick out more if he tried.Dean Winchester wants to be invisible. He sits at the back of the bus and hides in headphones and comic books, avoiding everyone and dreaming of escape.Slowly, steadily, through mixtapes and superheroes and late-night conversations, Dean and Castiel fall for each other. But in their little town in 1980s Kansas, they're relationship proves to be more of a struggle than they bargained for.
Relationships: Andrea Kormos/Benny Lafitte, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Eleanor & Park](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/680770) by Rainbow Rowell. 



> He’d stopped trying to bring her back.   
>  She only came back when she felt like it, in dreams and lies and broken-down déjá vu.  
>  Like, he’d be driving to work, and he’d see a girl with red hair standing on the corner - and he’d swear, for half a choking moment, that it was her.  
>  Then he’d see that the girl’s hair was more blonde than red.  
>  And that she was holding a cigarette… And wearing a Sex Pistols t-shirt.  
>  Eleanor hated the Sex Pistols.  
>  Eleanor…  
>  Standing behind him until he turned his head. Lying next to him just before he woke up. Making everyone else seem drabber and flatter and never good enough.  
>  Eleanor, ruining everything.  
>  Eleanor, gone.  
>  He’d stopped trying to bring her back. 
> 
>   
> -Eleanor & Park, page 1
> 
> \- - -  
> 

* * *

_What a strange being you are_

_G_ _od knows where I would be_ _if you hadn't found me, sitting all alone in the dark_  
 _A dumb screenshot of youth_  
 _Watch how a cold broken teen w_ _ill desperately lean on a superglued human of proof_

_What the hell would I be, without you_   
_Brave face talk so lightly, hide the truth_

\- 'Sick of Losing Soulmates', dodie

* * *

**Dean**

Led Zeppelin was no good for drowning out the morons in the back of the bus.

Dean turned the music up as loud as he could without it hurting. Tomorrow he was going to have to bring ACDC or Iron Maiden. Or even make a special bus mixtape with as much screaming and wailing as he could bear. 

He could get back to more Hard Rock in January, after he got his driver’s license. His parents had already said Dean could have his dad’s Impala, and he’d been saving up for a new tape deck. Once he started driving to school, he could listen to whatever he wanted or nothing at all, _and_ he’d get to sleep in an extra twenty minutes. 

He could just hear the kids behind him shouting over each other, arguing about something. God, what he would give for just one quiet bus ride. Just one. 

“You’re so full of shit,” some guy yelled.

“ _You’re_ full of shit,” Meg Masters yelled back. 

_You’re all full of shit_ , Dean thought. 

“Dean! Hey, Dean!” Luke Dawn shouted. 

Dean heard him, but didn’t answer. Sometimes, if you ignored Luke for a minute, he moved onto something else. If he called your name, all you had to do was pretend you didn’t hear him. He’d try again two or three times, and then just forget you. That usually worked, but you also had to keep your head down, and Dean momentarily forgot that…

A balled up piece of paper hit him on the back of the head, and he closed his eyes and let out a deep, suffering sigh. 

“That was my homework, dipshit,” Meg said to Luke, who just laughed. 

Dean picked up the paper from the floor and handed it to Meg. She nodded her thanks and unscrewed the page just to stuff it unceremoniously back into her bag. 

“DEAN!” Luke yelled again.

Dean pulled his headphones off and turned to the back of the bus. Luke, or Satan himself, as Dean liked to think of him, was sitting right at the back, in the middle seat. Meg Masters and Arthur Ketch were sitting to his left, and Marv Tronne was lounging to his right, taking up two whole seats. They all looked at Dean with smug expressions, like annoying the piss out of him was a team effort and one of their greatest achievements in life.

“What, Lucifer?” Dean grunted.

“Okay, firstly, don’t call me that, Winchester,” Luke said sourly, “Second, who do you think’s hotter, Farrah Fawcett or Audrey Hepburn?”

“What are you asking him for?” Marv interrupted in his irritating voice, before Dean even got the chance to sarcastically express the fact that he doesn’t give a shit, “A fag like him isn’t gonna have an opinion on them.”

Dean turned his glare to the ballsack of a guy that was Marv Tronne. Marv just raised his eyebrows in a challenging way and grinned. Dean responded with a flip of the Finger.

“Hey, look.” Ketch nudged Meg and indicated to the front of the bus. “New kid.” 

Everyone, including Dean, turned to look. 

The guy was standing there, next to the first available seat, gripping to his backpack straps, face turning pink with embarrassment. There was a freshman sitting there, and she put her bag on the empty seat and turned to look out the window. Marv snickered. He lived for this kind of thing. 

The kid took a deep breath and stepped further down the aisle. Everyone who had a spare seat next to them covered it up somehow and looked away. 

He looked like the kind of kid this would happen to. 

Not just new - but lanky and awkward. He had messy bed-hair, dark brown, that obviously hadn’t seen a hairbrush maybe ever. His bright, blue eyes looked kinda huge behind his wire-framed nerd glass. And he dressed like he _wanted_ people to think he’s weird. Or maybe he didn’t understand how much of a mess he looked. He had a white button-up shirt on, untucked and crinkled, a fucking _trenchcoat_ , and bright green sneakers with muddy laces that were untied. 

He would never survive in the wild. Dean tried to look away, but it was kind of a train-wreck situation; you just had to watch while disaster unfolded.

The bus stopped again, and more kids got on. They pushed past the new kid, knocking into him and dropping into their own seats.

That was the thing; everyone had their own seat, the one they claimed at the beginning of the year and kept until the end. There were only a few empty seats left now, and they were all at the back of the bus. The guy noticed that, and began to walk further down the aisle, right into the belly of the Beast. 

_No,_ thought Dean frantically, _turn around, go back._ He could practically feel the kids behind him waiting excitedly, like predators waiting for their prey.

Then the new guy spotted an empty seat. His blue eyes lit up with relief and he began to make his way towards it.

"Hey," Meg called.

The boy kept moving and reached the empty seat.

"Hey," Meg repeated, " _Dweeb._ "

Luke and the others started laughing. Dean groaned quietly and sank down, wishing he could be somewhere else. It wouldn't have been _so_ bad if he'd missed the bus today, would it?

"You can't sit there," Meg said. "That's Ruby's seat."

The boy stopped and looked up. He stared at Meg, then looked at the empty seat. Dean looked down at his feet. 

"Hey, sit down already!" the bus driver called impatiently.

"I have to sit somewhere," the new kid said to Meg in a quiet voice.

"Not my problem," Meg snapped.

The bus lurched, and the boy gripped the seat to stop himself from falling. Dean tried to turn the volume up on his Walkman, but it was already all the way up. He looked back up at this weird, new, nerdy-looking boy; it looked like he was about to cry.

Before he'd even decided to do it, Dean moved toward the window, leaving a vacancy next to him. 

"Sit down," he hissed. It came out impatient, angry. The kid turned to Dean, like he couldn't tell if this was a joke or what. "Jesus fucking Christ," Dean said softly, nodding to the space next to him, "just _sit down_."

The guy sat down. He didn't say anything - thank God, he didn't say thank you - and he left six inches of space in between them. Dean studied him for a split second, then turned to the Plexiglas window and waited to arrive at the world of suck.

* * *

**Castiel**

Cas sat on the concrete steps at the front of the school, staring at the bus stop, and considered his options.

  1. He could walk home. Pros: Time to himself, good exercise, get to know the town a bit. Cons: He had absolutely no idea how to get to the house.
  2. He could call his dad to come pick him up. Pros: Fast getaway, no exhaustion from walking. Cons: Cas hated his dad.
  3. He could call Gabriel to pick him up. Pros: Gabe was great, so was his car. Cons: He lived more than 300 miles away.
  4. He could take the bus. Pros: It’s right there. Cons: Literally everything else.



As Cas thought this through - he really didn’t need to, but he refused to accept the fact that taking the bus was basically his only choice - he stared at all the yellow buses parked in a conga line in front of the school. His was right in the middle, no. 666, or something.

Even if Cas did figure out a way to avoid the bus today, even if an angel descended from the heavens to give him a lift, he would still have to find a way to get to school the next day. And it’s not like those demon kids at the back were going to magically wake up as nice people in the morning. Especially that one kid in the middle, was Luke his name? With his perfectly styled hair and expensive shoes and evil glint in his eyes. If you looked closely, you’d no doubt see the horns poking out of his head. And his friends were probably all spawns of hell, as well. They’d hated Cas before they’d even laid eyes on him. 

_Don’t be dramatic, Castiel_ , said the voice of Balthazar in Cas’ mind.

_Yes, alright, mental imprint of my brother, shut up_. 

It’s not like Cas even wanted to go home. But he felt obliged to. He couldn’t leave Alfie and Hannah on their own. While they still had one older sibling who was still around, that older sibling was going to watch over them. So surviving two bus rides a day was worth it for those two. But Cas wasn’t too crazy about coming face to face with his dad.

An ideal world would be one where Cas lived by himself, as far away from civilization as possible. No Dad, no arguments, no school, no dumb kids who think they’re better than you, no feelings of loneliness or hopelessness, just Cas and a typewriter and a cat. And maybe some bees.

Cas couldn’t sit on these steps forever. His bus was leaving soon, so it was now or not at all.

He turned his head slightly to see the stream of teenagers leaving the school building. There were tall kids and short kids, and guys with long hair and girls with short hair, kids who looked like they were in their early thirties, kids who looked like they still belonged in fourth grade. Most of the kids were walking in pairs or groups, except for a few freshmen and that kid from the bus who had let Cas sit down. The dumb, green-eyed, annoyingly good-looking blonde kid who listened to his music too loud and had a permanently angry expression on his stupid freckly face. 

Cas wondered if he was in with the demons in the last row. He hadn’t laughed at that girl Meg’s heckling, but he hadn’t exactly been nice to Cas, either. Maybe he was a neutral party. Cas was fine with that. As long as he didn’t try to start a conversation on any of the bus rides. 

The buses had begun to leave, taking all the kids home. Cas glared angrily at each kid and each driver and each bus and sighed inwardly. _Oh fine_ , Cas thought, as he got to his feet and picked up his bag, _the children of hell shan’t go hungry today_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello sorry for disappearing, thank you deeply to anyone reading this and everyone who leaves kudos, you're very cool and it's greatly appreciated and very encouraging :)  
> hope you enjoy <3

**Dean**

Dean had expected Luke to get at him straight away for letting the new kid sit next to him, but Luke had just gone right back to fooling around with the others. This was strange, because Luke obviously thought that any showing of kindness or thoughtfulness were signs of weakness, and made you just as dumb and mockable as whatever _dweeb_ you're defending. Dean had gotten off the bus feeling relieved. Confused, and a little embarrassed, as well, but mostly relieved. But anyway, Dean hadn’t even done it out of kindness. He just felt embarrassed and was getting sick of hearing those morons jeering and laughing like that. In fact, he'd spent most of the rest of the day thinking about switching seats on the ride back, for fear of Luke realizing he'd forgotten to make the rest of Dean's bus ride _to_ school hell, so would compensate by making the ride _from_ school hell. For both Dean _and_ the new kid. The problem was, who would he switch with? And how likely was it that the guilt he'd feel for doing so would make the rest of the school harder to get through?

Dean hated himself for thinking like this. He spent most of the day feeling irritable and anxious. Trust Dean to overthink the situation like this.

As for the new kid, he spent most of the day behaving like the rest of the world didn't exist, and anytime Dean caught sight of him, he was either staring into space as if lost in thought or engrossed in a thick book he'd open up and lay in his lap under the desk. 

English class was the only time he seemed at all engaged in reality. 

"Ah, Castiel!" Mr Shurley exclaimed, after making the new kid introduce himself, "what a wonderful name! That's an angel's name." 

Castiel smiled shyly and nodded slightly, obviously dying to sit down. 

"Okay, take a seat, and we’ll begin." Mr Shurley gestured to an empty desk two rows in front of Dean, and Dean tried not to look at Castiel as he shuffled towards him.

Dean zoned out a little, staring at the back of Castiel’s head, while Mr Shurley went on to describe what they would be learning this year. Words, words, blah, blah… Then a different voice sounded. Dean woke up from his trance to focus on the words.

“ _I have fallen from the sky,_ / _Fallen to the ground_ ,” the voice said. 

And the voice belonged to Castiel. And it was not what Dean expected him to sound like _at all_. 

“ _I am the angel of sadness,_ / _Angel of lost hopes_ ,” Castiel continued, reading aloud from a sheet of paper in front of him. 

When Castiel had introduced himself, his voice had been small, quiet, but very deep and rough sounding. Maybe the thickness of his voice was a bit of a surprise, but his tone and manner had perfectly fit this awkward, spindly kid who walked and stood like the whole world sat on his shoulders.

“ _Angel of lost dreams,_ / _I am the fallen angel_.”

But now, reading the poem, he sounded so confident. His voice had adopted a quality you’d hear in a king’s speech, and his tone was clear and poetic and perfect for the circumstance. Dean glanced at his teacher, who was watching Cas with a look that could only be described as admiration.

“ _Fear me not,_ / _I am here for a reason,_ / _That reason is to have a second chance in life,_ / _That life I was given for a reason_ ,” Castiel read. 

Dean had never thought much about poetry. The only things he read were comics, crime novels, and the occasional philosophical thesis ( _for light reading before bed_ ), so poeticism and shit like that was lost in him. Yet somehow, he knew that Castiel was putting just the right amount of emotion into his words, emphasizing all the right words, moving slowly through each verse. You only had to take one look at Shurley to know that Castiel was doing a brilliant job.

“ _They took my wings,_ / _They took me apart, made me human,_ / _I was the fallen angel_.” Castiel paused, looking up at Mr Shurley, who raised his eyebrows and nodded. Castiel cleared his throat, shifted a little in his seat and went on. 

“ _But that fallen angel had one chance in life that she was given,_ / _This angel won’t make the same mistakes she made before,_ / _This angel will go down the right path that has been chosen for her,_ / _This fallen angel knows what she has to do to be forgiven_ .” Castiel looked up, and added softly “ _Fallen Angel_ , by Jennifer Rondeau.”

Mr Shurley smiled widely and began to clap. The rest of the students seemed to hesitate, but in a second everyone was clapping as well. Dean clapped with them, confused about the elated feeling that had swelled in his chest. 

“That was wonderful, Mr Novak, I am in awe of your poem voice,” Shurley said, bowing slightly. Dean rolled his eyes at his English teacher’s dramatism, but when he looked at Castiel, the back of his neck looked quite pink, like he was blushing pleasantly. And a part of Dean found that endearing.

After what was mostly introduction to the lesson and explanation of the syllabus, the lesson ended, and Dean rushed out of the classroom, eager to enjoy the break.

The best part of the day, as was the best part of any day, was at recess. This was when Dean could retreat to the library, with his best friends, Benny and Charlie. He’d find a good edition of one of his favourite comic books and just relax, while Charlie cracked jokes and complained about stuff and Benny drooled over his crush, Andrea Kormos, or endlessly sassed Charlie. 

Dean could unfold here, with them. He and Charlie would debate over whether the Avengers could beat the X-Men or not, who was better: Professor X or Doctor Strange (on the basis of powers and wisdom levels), why Cyclops was a piece of shit, why certain underrated characters deserved more attention (“Daredevil is _not_ underrated”, “Seriously, how is Quicksilver _better_ than Scarlet Witch?”), and so forth, without the threat of being teased about it or mocked about it by others (*cough* _his dad_ *cough*). He and Benny could make bad jokes, poke fun at each other, call each other “Deanna” and “Boony”, Dean could crush his hopes of ever getting together with Andrea, Benny could kick Dean’s shins under the table and casually call him "brother".

Nothing mattered in their bubble, except for fictional characters and who can come up with the best comebacks.

"I'm just saying, man, DC has a totally awesome collection of characters!" Charlie was protesting.

"Charlie, come on, how can Superman ever be better than Iron Man?" Dean argued.

"I never said he's _better_ , he's just really cool," she shrugged.

Her red hair bounced every time she moved, and although her tone was serious, her brown eyes twinkled with silent laughter. Dean sighed, shaking his head.

"He's the ultimate cliche, Charles."

"He's the _original_ cliche, Dean, that's why he's so fun to read."

Dean went to rebut that, but Benny cleared his throat. Dean turned his attention to his burly, dark haired, other best friend, who was sitting back in his chair with his feet up on the table and cap covering his eyes. 

"Y'know, as interesting as I'm findin' this conversation," Benny grumbled, putting his feet back on the ground and sitting forwards, "can we please change the topic to somethin' I actually understand?" He smirked a little and lifted his cap to reveal playfully raised eyebrows. "Jus' a thought."

"Read the fucking comics, Benny, then we'll talk," Charlie grinned, grabbing the _Spider-Man_ comic Dean was reading and pushing it onto Benny's chest. 

This sparked the usual argument between them (Benny: "Charlie, just 'cause you're one great, big nerd, don't mean I hafta be one as well"/Charlie: "I think you'll find that it's a requirement to be my friend, so fuck off"). So Dean, feeling a little unfairly treated for having his comic snatched, decided this was a good time to zone out. His eyes drifted to the side of the library, scanning the floor, and fell upon a pair of grubby, green sneakers. Dean recognized these shoes, so he lifted his gaze. He saw the new kid, sitting slumped in a chair pushed right up against the wall, that thick book he'd been carrying around laying open in his lap, staring _right back at Dean_ , with those big fucking blue eyes of his. Dean blinked, feeling a heat in his cheeks and a prickling on the back of his neck, until he noticed how unfocused and out of it Castiel looked. Dean lifted his hand and waved it in Castiel's line of vision. No reaction. 

The heavy book slipped off Castiel's lap and landed with a loud thump, startling the boy so much his glasses slipped further down his nose. Dean looked away quickly to stop himself from laughing out loud. Charlie and Benny had temporarily paused their banter, so Dean took the opportunity to take his comic book back, which naturally caused Charlie to start on everything wrong with _Spider-man_. So recess went on in the same way it always did, and the familiarity was a source of comfort to Dean.

These were the images Dean replayed in his head as he left the school building. He walked out by himself, unable to fight the smile on his face that probably made him look like a total doofus. He didn't notice Castiel sitting by himself as he tore down the front steps and towards his bus. He'd even forgotten his inner conflict that had been tormenting him all morning, and returned to his usual seat near the back. Meg was there, as were Ruby and Alastair, and they were all looking at a magazine that Ruby was holding. None of them took notice of Dean, who silently thanked whoever it was watching over him and settled into his seat with his headphones already blasting Led Zeppelin again.

Then the rest of the kids boarded the bus, and Dean felt the panic rise in him as Castiel made his way down the aisle. The boy's blue eyes were averted, staying lowered to the ground, and he moved slowly as if in a funeral march. Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably and moved to the window. He stared out of it, not really looking at anything in particular, as the new kid sat down next to him. Dean heard him let out a long sigh, which naturally caused a pang of guilt to pull at his heart.

Dean turned " _The Ocean_ " up, to block out the noise on the bus that was gradually increasing as more kids got on. And to block out his thoughts, too, because those were maybe more irritating than the idiots that sat behind him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *yeets chapter at you and scampers away, tripping on my shoelaces a little before disappearing into the distance*
> 
> tw: family issues, mentions of parents fighting/child abuse

**Castiel**

Maybe it wasn’t bad. Maybe Castiel could get used to it. It was, after all, only the first week. 

What was that thing Gabriel used to say? “If you punch a little harder, you’ll eventually break through.” Something like that.

Cas smiled as he remembered his older brother. Sitting here, in the bus - with the tinny sound of loud music playing from Dean Winchester’s headphones next to him; the noises being made by the idiots behind him; the rumble of the engines and jolt of the bus wheels hitting manholes and dips in the road - it was difficult to reminisce about such distant memories, but Cas could still imagine Gabriel’s shoulder pressing into Cas’ as they sat together at the typewriter, writing the scenes Cas felt were the hardest, or sitting at the piano while Gabriel played the melody and Cas played the accompaniment, or on the sofa, watching cartoons on their tiny box TV.

Those quiet, familiar moments when their parents were away, and the house belonged to the kids. Michael would gently take charge and cook whatever they asked him to, and Balthazar could paint and make a mess, and Gabe could play his music as loud as he wanted, Hannah could read all her favourite moments in Nancy Drew out loud and watch as many nature programmes as she could fit into one day, and Alfie could dress up in the clothes too big for him and stomp around the living room, acting like the little kid he really was. Those days were few, but they were precious, and they felt like they’d last forever. 

But naturally they never did. Eventually, their parents would come home, and immediate order would have to take place. Everything would be straightened out, and Alfie would be taken to bed, sometimes quietly and sullenly, sometimes kicking and screaming. Hannah would be scolded, told to sit up and straight and act like a lady. Balthazar would be yelled at for the mess he didn’t clear up fast enough, cursed at for getting the paint on his clothes or face, sometimes deliberately. Gabriel would glare at them from the side, sometimes yell back, and eventually storm out of the house, slamming the door behind him. And Michael would watch, quietly and sadly, not saying a thing, often comforting Balt or Cas or Hannah, and then creep away to his bedroom, always avoiding. Always obedient.

Cas' dreamy smile faded and morphed into something more melancholy, and the ghost of old pain welled up in his chest. Things were different now. Not better, but not exactly worse, either. That old fire of anger and conflict that used to threaten to reduce their family to ashes had died down, and all that was left was a dull ache, an uncomfortable silence that weighed heavy on the Novaks' shoulders. 

Ever since their mother left, the mood had gone from a raging thunderstorm to an army of hanging rain clouds. Sometimes, the sky cleared, and the sun peaked through the gloom, and those nostalgic moments that paid homage to the older days were the highlights of Cas' days, but of course something always happened and it all came crashing down again. 

Now Cas wanted to go home even less.

On his first day, coming home was hard, but when he eventually arrived, he was thankfully only greeted by his younger siblings, Hannah and Alfie. Balthazar still wasn't back, and dad was nowhere to be seen. Naturally, Cas preferred it like that. And the week had carried on like that, with his dad sleeping in late in the mornings and coming home even later at night, and Cas happily went on with his day, peaceful and relaxed, helping Hannah with her homework, humouring Alfie if he ever got bored. The only worry he ever felt was about school or wherever the hell Balthazar still was. But the week was ending, Fridays were always different, and Sunday loomed threateningly in the distance.

Cas shrugged these thoughts off and focused on his surroundings. His neighbouring passenger, Dean, was still making a point of not looking at Castiel. But that was fine. The only problem was the music in those headphones playing too damn loud. Cas' hands twitched in his lap and he had to fight the urge to tap Dean on the shoulder and ask him to kindly turn it down please. 

Well, at least it was better than whatever was going on in the rest of the bus. Screams of "bitch" and "spaz" and "airhead" flew from each end of the bus, digging into Cas' eardrums and making him want to scream. But he fought down the frustration, set his face in a blank expression and kept himself to himself, just as Michael had told him to.

The bus finally reached his stop, and Cas got off with the thought that yet another ride had gone without him interacting with Dean at all. With a sigh, Cas hitched his satchel further up his shoulder, wrapped his trenchcoat tight around him, and made a run for his house. And if his father was there to greet him, then so be it. Cas could handle it.

What he couldn't handle though, was what he saw when he walked through the front door. 

Balthazar was home. His hair was a mess, sticking out at all angles, he had a purple feather boa draped around his neck, a leather jacket to make Michael Jackson jealous, and, to Castiel's shock (and secret admiration), _eyeliner._ Balth was just standing there, leaning casually against the mantelpiece in the front room, sipping some amber liquid from a glass. It took Cas a while to realize that was _alcohol_ he was drinking. 

Balth noticed Cas, choked a little on his drink, and, spluttering slightly, exclaimed "Cassie! Just the brother I wanted to see!"

Cas frowned, dropping his satchel at the door and kicking off his shoes. "Balth, I-"

"No, no, before you say anything, I need to know-" He interrupted himself with a small burp, which inexplicably made Cas want to slap him, "-what time Dad or Michael come home."

Cas sighed. That was a question he wondered to himself on the daily. "I don't know," he admitted, stepping into the room, still not quite recovering from the shock of seeing his brother, and seeing him like _this_. "Michael rarely gets home before 9, and Dad sometimes gets here even later than that."

"Bloody hell," Balth grimaced. Cas noted he still hadn't dropped his British way of speaking that he'd adopted ever since watching Mary Poppins. He vaguely remembered Balth explaining to Michael that it was a creative way of saying "screw you" to dad, which, personally, Cas didn't really understand. 

An awkward silence fell over the two brothers, and Cas had to wipe his hands on his coat to stop them from sweating. _Eyeliner? Really? Where in God's name had Balthazar been this past week?_

"Um, where are Han and Alfie?" Balthazar asked, sheepishly.

Obviously, they were somewhere in the house. Hannah was always good at making sure the two of them got home safely every day. That was another source of guilt in Cas' soul. The fact that Hannah has to be responsible for herself and for Alfie for two hours, until Cas got home. She was only 13, and still went to school separately from Cas. Her middle school was closer to Alfie's elementary school, which was considerably near their house, so the two would leave early to take the twenty minute walk to school each morning.

"Probably in one of the back rooms," Cas replied nonchalantly, shrugging off his trenchcoat, which was beginning to feel heavy on him, and hanging it over his arm. 

So many questions hung on the end of his tongue, dying to be let out and thrown at Balthazar. Cas was _so angry_ at his older brother. But there wasn't really anything he could do about that now. No, he just had to keep his cool. Deep breaths, and push the anger down.

"I'm going to go do my homework," he announced calmly, crossing the room and stepping out into the hallway. He stopped in the doorway to face Balthazar again to say one more thing, "There's, um, some food in the kitchen, leftovers from last night and-" Cas stopped himself, and shrugged sheepishly. "oh, you know, I don't need to tell you. Just get something to eat, and drink. Something other than," he gestured vaguely at the glass in his brother's hand, "whatever that is."

Balthazar's expression lightened, and he smirked, saluting playfully. "You got it, captain."

Cas smiled and nodded stiffly. He considered staying and having a proper conversation, but then he wasn't really in the mood, and the other things that had been on his mind were catching up with him again, and if he didn't sit down and let himself think, they might overtake and overwhelm him. He needed some space to worry about everything properly. So he left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGST and BACKSTORY and CONTEXT  
> i swear this is going somewhere :)


End file.
